“Well, now we’ve got him.” Bolan folded his arms across his chest decisively.
Kurtzman sighed. “I know. Hear me out. Amateur archaeology is his passion. The guy hands out grants like party favors to universities with red-hot archaeology departments. And if there’s one real boondoggle in his life, one place where he makes bad business choices, it’s archaeology. The man has thrown away some serious coin on far-flung digs and treasure hunts that went nowhere. Of course he can afford it, but we’re talking about a genuine addiction for digging around in the sandbox.”
Bolan considered the information. “Bring up his guest list at the hunting lodge again.”
Kurtzman clicked keys and the names and photos popped onto Bolan’s screen. He scanned them and pointed at a name. “Dr. Marcus Klein. Doctor of what?”
Kurtzman searched. “Professor of classical archaeology, UC Berkeley.”
“Not your average great white hunter,” Bolan said.
“No.” Kurtzman’s craggy brow furrowed. “He’s a card-carrying member of PETA, actually.”
“Something very intriguing must have made him ignore his scruples and attend a billionaire’s pig hunt in rural California.”
“He wants a grant? A lot of academics do a lot of things they’re ashamed of to receive funding.”
Bolan tapped another picture on his screen. “Who’s the blonde?” She had long straight hair, arched eyebrows, full lips and big white teeth. She looked curvaceous and was wearing a pink argyle sweater and pin-striped pants. Stylish square eyeglasses completed her look. She had the fulsome, librarian seductress look going to the hilt. “She’s not Eckhart’s usual Euro-lanky ice-queen girlfriend.”
Kurtzman grinned. He was a man who appreciated a woman with curves. “That is Nancy Rhynman. Double major in archaeology and linguistics. Specializing in ancient Greek studies on the one hand and primate body language on the other.”
“Primate body language?”
“She wrote a thesis matching ape gestures, expressions and body language to humans. She speaks on the lecture circuit and gives corporate seminars on reading body language to help businesses get ahead.”
“That’s got to pay more than the ancient Greeks.” Bolan’s eyes narrowed. “What is Professor Klein’s specialty?”
Kurtzman smiled as he saw where this was going. “The ancient Greeks.”
“Eckhart probably wouldn’t care about reading body language except as cocktail conversation. This Nancy gal is attractive but he already has a supermodel girlfriend. She’s there for her archaeological expertise. So is Klein. I need you to find out what they’re all up to,” Bolan said.
The computer chimed. The Executioner clicked on Accept and a video inset of Gary Manning appeared. “Hello, boys!”
“What have you got on your end?’ Bolan asked.
“Turns out the guys with the big guns were doing more than firing for effect. The weapons were Hungarian Gepard rifles. The M3 version, chambered for 14.5 mm Russian rounds. We’re talking a thousand-grain bullet traveling at over three thousand feet per second. I surveyed the damage. You could put your fist through some of the holes they punched through that house.”
Bolan had seen the weapons up close and didn’t doubt it.
“And here’s the real interesting thing,” Manning continued. “They put a round through Eckhart’s bedroom that hit his bed, his pillow actually, right on the side of the bed where he sleeps. In his private study his computer was smashed apart and the trajectory would have cut him in half if he’d been online. They put a round where he sits in his favorite chair in the TV room, one through the dining room that would have killed anyone sitting at the head of the table and another one would have taken him on the can in the master bedroom. These guys had intimate knowledge of Eckhart’s place and had his usual stationary spots plotted in their firing computers. I’ve never seen an assassination attempt like this, but I’m telling you, it was slick.”
The fact they knew the inside of Eckhart’s house and the usual places he lurked implied he’d been betrayed from within and his enemies were willing to go to extraordinary lengths to kill him. “How’s life at the lodge otherwise?” Bolan asked.
“Going swimmingly, actually. Phil and I are—”
“Phil?” Bolan inquired.
“Yeah, Phil. That’s his name.” Manning sounded vaguely offended. “Anyway, we all know Phil didn’t want CIA spooks or FBI suits lurking in every corner of his life. But after last night he’s pretty grateful and he seems to like me a whole lot.” Manning was positively smug. “I just happen to have the news flash you’ve been waiting for.”
“And what would that be?” Bolan asked.
“Eckhart’s planning, how does he like to put it? An…endeavor.”
Bolan and Kurtzman both smiled at the same time. “Would that be an archaeological endeavor?” Bolan asked.
Manning deflated as his thunder was stolen. “Yeah, how’d you know?”
“Skill and science. So where’s our boy headed?” Kurtzman asked.
“Don’t know. But he’s hinting like it’s a real roughing-it situation, and he implied it’s outside North America. He mentioned mountains and unfriendly natives and asked if I knew how to ride a horse. The real interesting news is that Eckhart said he’s hiring security for the endeavor, and we’re talking mercs.”
“So what did you say?” Bolan asked.
“I didn’t have to say anything. He offered me the job of head of security.”
“You took the job?” Bolan said.
“Naw, I wanted to, but I told him I couldn’t do it. Told him I had other commitments. I did tell him I knew a guy who was reliable, not on the government payroll and needed a job.” Manning gave Bolan a shit-eating grin over the link.
Bolan nodded. It was true, he didn’t work for the United States government. It was truer to say he had a working relationship with it, though the lines got blurry sometimes even for him. “Nice work. You find out anything else?”
“Not too much. When he and I weren’t flapping our gums about the great outdoors Phil spent a lot of time in his private study with some professor guy and a bubbly blonde.”
Bolan and Bear shot each other knowing looks.
Manning perked up. “Oh, and the Gurkha? I got his name. Lalbahadur Rai, and you were right, Striker. Phil hired him through Gurkha Security Limited, U.K. With that and his name we should be able to check his credentials, but I can tell you right now just by watching him. He’s a badass.”
Every Gurkha Bolan had ever met was. Pound for pound they were some of the toughest soldiers on earth. “How am I supposed to do the meet-and-greet with Eckhart?” he asked.
“Don’t know your ultimate destination,
